


the pale morning sings of forgotten things (play a tune for those who wish to overlook)

by brainstorming



Series: Second Child, Restless Child [1]
Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cal Kestis Needs a Hug, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Whump, this was NOT supposed to be as long as it will be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23487796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brainstorming/pseuds/brainstorming
Summary: Cal struggles with the secrets the Second Sister revealed, and the Haxion Brood wants a piece of him to pay off Greez's debt. Greez just wants to play happy families again.(Title: The Lion's Roar by First Aid Kit)
Relationships: BD-1 & Cal Kestis, Greez Dritus & Cal Kestis
Series: Second Child, Restless Child [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689847
Kudos: 40





	the pale morning sings of forgotten things (play a tune for those who wish to overlook)

**Author's Note:**

> me then, rushing thru the fight scene to give cal the affection we all crave: this is only gonna be short and not detailed bcos i want cal to be happy quick :)
> 
> me now, who only planned for this to be a oneshot but it's not because i'm a dummy with a penchant for prolonging pain: lol anyway
> 
> I haven't written a fic for the best part of a year, please be gentle uwu

Adventuring always took its toll on Cal.

Although fit and able-bodied, rock-hopping across different planets sometimes for days at a time, with BD-1 his only company, could wear out even the most seasoned Jedi: and a seasoned Jedi he was not, despite being young and strong and able-bodied (though perhaps not quite as fit as he should have been for a padawan his age, after many years of no training on Bracca).

Each adventure seemed to get more tedious the longer it went on: stim canisters only did so much good for a broken body, but the exhaustion never quite wore off. Cal could see it in his droid's eyes that the little being was concerned, could hear it every time BD-1 beeped at him from his shoulder - always checking to make sure his charge was still alright to go on.

\--

The two were settled next to a quiet campfire burning away: Cal huddled up in a poncho that engulfed him, and BD-1 perched faithfully by his side. The day's trek had been long and full of surprise enemies. They had hoped to be back at the _Mantis_ by nightfall, but as each fight took more out of Cal, it had been so unlikely that the two had been forced to set up camp on a rocky ledge overlooking Zeffo's vast evening landscape.

The icy chill of being so high up sunk its teeth into Cal's aching joints, despite the fire steadily crackling away. He huddled in further to the warm fabric, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. BD-1 beeped mournfully at him, antennae swiveling forward at the movement.

Cal turned his head and smiled down at the droid, reaching one arm out to brave the cold, and patted BD-1 on his head. "Yeah, I'm alright." he replied, feeling the lie slip through his teeth. "Just cold."

_And tired, and lonely,_ his brain traitorously reminded him, but he refused to dwell on it. "We'll be back on the _Mantis_ tomorrow, buddy, I promise."

\--

Cal should have known better than to make a promise he couldn't keep.

Lured in by the promise of a hot drink and a soft couch to lay on, he had been single-minded in his journey back to the ship: he hadn't paid any attention to the twisted feeling in his gut until it was too late, and by the time he paused to really consider why the feeling kept growing, the trap the bounty hunter had set for him had already been sprung.

So here he was - in a frighteningly-big arena surrounded by hundreds -if not _thousands_ \- of paying spectators watching him, waiting for him to die at the hands of the beasts they had chosen to set upon him.

_But_ , he supposed, albeit grudgingly, _it could be worse_. The ringleader -this _Sorc Tormo_ fellow who, Cal decided, thought far too highly of himself- had at least deigned to give him his lightsaber. _He wants to make this interesting for the crowd - it's no fun to watch someone die without a fighting chance_.

The blue blade glowed brightly at his side, the familiar weight of it in his hand giving him a sense of comfort as he watched the gates at each side of the gladiatorial pit - _where will they come from?_ If he wasn't prepared for an attack on both sides, this fight would be over very quickly.

BD-1, sensing his unease, chirruped from behind him: the little white droid had become such an integral part of him that Cal had been very seriously lost without him. As much as Cal wanted to look over his shoulder and reassure the droid that _everything was okay, we're gonna make it out of here alive_.

That would be very hard to do without the _Mantis_ to pick them up - did they even know he was here?

As the first gate opened with a screech of rusted metal and hiss of old hydraulics, Cal shooed that particular thought from his mind, and reached out for the Force to guide his lightsaber to strike true.

\--

Cal only registered something was amiss when Sorc Tormo's voice came through the loudspeakers when it possibly shouldn't have, a hissed " _What do you **mean** incoming?_", before the faint sound of ship engines could be heard over the roar of the crowd, gradually growing louder until it became deafening.

That brief moment where his concentration left the fight was all it took for the Wyyyschokk spider to take advantage and leap to the attack, hissing like a cockroach as it lunged at Cal: BD-1's panicked trill alerted him to the attack and he leaped away, but it came too late as the agile creature bowled him over and sank its fangs into Cal's outstretched arm that had been blocking his face.

Even the Force couldn't block out the searing pain that ran like fire through his veins, and the young Jedi let out a scream as the crowd cheered on: just as quickly as it had happened, he swung his free arm and stabbed into the spider's abdomen with his saber. The black flesh sizzled and burned, and the Wyyyschokk screeched as it died.

Cal had been fighting for only minutes, but exhaustion made it feel like a lifetime as the familiar shape of the _Mantis_ burst through the scaffolding that held the arena together - the crowd shrieked and screamed, all struggling to leap over each other as they crammed into the exits, trampling one another in the process to avoid the ship's bulk. Sorc Tormo's enraged shouting crackled over the loudspeakers as it landed, deploying the ramp as Cal struggled to his feet, BD-1 screeching a line of what he assumed was nothing pleasant at the retreating crowd from the dirt where he had landed as Cal fell. The little droid leaped nimbly onto his master's uninjured shoulder, struggling to keep his balance as Cal stumbled onto the ramp and into the hull as the _Mantis_ departed as swiftly as she had arrived.

\--

The throbbing ache in his arm still hadn't subsided by the time they reached lightspeed, and Cal was now beginning to seriously consider raiding the medicine cabinet as he poured himself a glass of water in the kitchen: his mind still hadn't caught up with the events of the day, and and he kept replaying them in order, trying to parse exactly _where_ it had all gone wrong.

He supposed there was one event that truly stood out though: the Second Sister - _Trilla Suduri_ , Cere's former padawan learner who she'd inferred had been killed in the slaughter-, previously such a mysterious figure yet still ever-so-threatening, revealing to him _more than happily_ the origin of how she came to be so hateful. That Cere, the woman who had rescued him and put all his faith in, had betrayed her to the Empire to save her own skin - but it _couldn't_ be that, right? Cere would _never_ betray another Jedi, let alone her own apprentice?

But Cal knew that the Second Sister's words rang true, to a certain extent: hell, Cere had _admitted_ it herself when he had confronted her in the cockpit after their impromptu escape from the Haxion Brood. But a small part of him still hoped that it was untrue - a master was supposed to give his life for his padawan learner, after all. It was something that had been drilled into his head at the Jedi Temple, a grim reminder that _you should do everything you can to prevent your master taking unnecessary risks on your behalf_.

The memory of his last day upon the _Albedo Brave_ surged to the forefront of his brain, and he forced himself to swallow the bile that rose in his throat as he pushed it back down to his subconscious.

Through the noise in his head, he hadn't noticed Greez had wandered over and was trying his hardest to give the young Jedi a wide berth: the Latero looked at him like he was a wild animal, and warranted caution to be around.

Cal forced a deep breath in through his nose, unclenched his jaw enough to exhale through his mouth, and took a long drink from his glass as he sat. He made a point of avoiding Greez's gaze, and instead busied himself with taking off the torn leather gauntlet that had protected his throbbing arm so poorly during the fight. _I'll have to find some more leather on our next stopover_ , he thought to himself as he undid the buckles and slid the leather piece off. _And reinforce it, maybe._

Cal bunched up his sleeve -also torn and looking far worse for wear- and examined his sore arm with interest: two neat entry holes where the Wyyyschokk's fangs had pierced his skin, dried blood crusting the punctures. It was swollen and angry, and it would be sore for many days to come. _Well, duh. Venom has a tendency to do that_. Even so, he counted himself lucky that he still _had_ his arm: he knew very well that he could have come out a lot worse. Still, it would require medical attention - the last thing he needed was to survive all of his battles, and then be taken down by a poisonous megafauna because he was too much of a wimp to handle an injection of antidote.

Which, speaking of: BD-1 held a faintly glowing stim canister above his head, and Cal took it with a quiet " _Thanks, buddy_ ". The needle-tip pressed against the angry red skin of the puncture site, and he grunted as it pierced the skin to deposit its contents in his arm. Greez watched this from behind him, before he huffed a long-suffering sigh and sat down at the head of the table beside him. "Hey, kiddo-"

But Cal wouldn't let him finish: after all, it had been Greez's fault that the Haxion Brood had found him. It had been Greez's gambling addiction that had founded Sorc Tormo's hate for the crew of the _Mantis_ , and Cal had paid for it - almost with his life. _Old habits die hard_.

Still, Cal couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt as he abruptly stood, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he departed: BD-1 beeped a question behind him, but he didn't turn back. He didn't _want_ to turn back: he was _angry_ , and _upset_ , and the Force swirled around him like a wounded animal, wary of anyone coming too close, ready to lash out at the first sign of provocation.

When he retreated to his room at the back of the ship and curled up in his low bunk, still in the dirty clothes he'd worn for days, he could've swore he heard Greez knock on the door. But the sound was too faint over the comforting hum of the engines, and it slowly lulled Cal into a fitful sleep that gave him no rest.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this entirely because I saw a post on Reddit about someone's roommate forehead kissing them goodnight and I wanted that for Cal & Greez but uh. guess we're not getting yet lololololol


End file.
